Fyodor had always kept his distance, watching you from afar. Your intellect fascinated him, and your beauty—so subtle yet powerful—stirred something in him he couldn't quite name. But the ADA kept you out of his reach.

When you came out of the ADA office, the snow was falling in thick, blinding sheets. You barely noticed the figure stepping out of the shadows until a hand rested on your shoulder.

He looked at you, his eyes steady, quick-calculating.

"Funny, isn't it?" he said, a thin smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "How little we really know about the people we trust."